


compromise

by jhoom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 11x22 coda, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 12:32:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6907357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhoom/pseuds/jhoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>coda for 11x22</p><p>After Dean returns to the bunker, Amara appears to him and makes him an offer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	compromise

**Author's Note:**

> come visit me on tumblr [@jhoomwrites](http://jhoomwrites.tumblr.com) and talk to me about supernatural and how depressing this last half of the season has been (i'm not bitter you're bitter shut up)

When Amara left, he barely believed it.  In a haze, they managed to get Chuck and Cas (thank fucking god - except not, because God had done pretty fucking little to actually help on that front... jackass) back to the bunker.  Both father and son passed out in the backseat, Dean got in the car and quietly seethed.

He felt like he didn’t even let himself breathe the whole drive back.  

The bunker felt... _wrong_  when they got back.  Sam didn’t seem to notice as he carried Chuck off to his room, but Dean felt it as soon as he got in the door.  The feeling only intensified as he walked through the library, gently shouldering as much of Cas’ weight as possible.  With considerable effort, he ignored the feeling of _wrongwrongwrongwrong_  and focused on taking care of Cas.

Not much of an apology, but it was the only one he could offer for now.

Long ago they’d given Cas the room next door to his by some mutual agreement.  He wasn’t sure if it was him or Cas who’d made the suggestion, and honestly he didn’t give a fuck right now.  It was just a huge _relief_  to see his best friend back in there. To pull the covers over him (mostly clothed, just minus the coat) and push a few stray hairs aside.  

And so fucking sue him, he watched the guy sleep for a bit.  Just to make sure he was okay.  

He finally allowed himself to leave the angel and go try and get some much deserved sleep.  Opening the door to his own room, Dean shuddered the second he went in.  The full body type of shudder that people say means someone walked over your grave.  With sickening realization, he realized what it meant.

That _she_  had been here.  In his fucking _room_.

Immediately he shut the door, only _just_ not slamming it as he ran out to the main room.  He was shaking as he popped a couple of ambien and tried to get himself comfortable in one of the chairs.  Not that comfortable mattered much when you take enough pills to drop a horse, but fuck if he didn’t really wanna wake up sore if he could help it.

Sleep brought him some peace for a while.  He drifted between dream and sleep, back and forth, for what felt like hours.  Always with a touch of awareness to let him know time was passing.  The dreams were shapeless, echoes of words and pictures and thoughts more than anything substantial.

Which is how he knew this, _this_ right here was no fucking dream.  He was in the library, tucked into the damn chair, but the complete lack of stiffness in his neck and back clued him in that he wasn’t exactly awake either.  

“Dean.”

He nearly jumped to his feet, reaching for a gun that a.) wasn’t there and b.) wouldn’t have done shit if it were.  Instead he settled for a pissed off glare and a growled out, “What the hell do you want?”

Amara stood before him, as unimpressed with his annoyance as ever.  Always willing to overlook his outbursts because to her, their joining wasn’t just a possibility.  It was the inevitable.

“I’m sorry about how things went earlier.  You shouldn’t have had to see that. It was family business, personal vendettas that needed righting... and unfortunately you had inserted yourself in the middle of that.”

He wanted to point out that uh, no he fucking didn’t.   _She_  had fucking put him in the middle of it the second she’d chosen him for her weird little obsession.   _God_  had put him and Sam in the middle of it the moment he’d picked them for that whole apocalypse-that-wasn’t bullshit a few years back.  Free will or not, he’d never really had a choice in any of this.  

But his tongue sat numb in his mouth.  He swallowed his words and indignation and instead hissed, “What the hell do you _want_?”

She looked him over, finally noticing his anger.  And then promptly ignored it.  With the patience of an adult explaining something to a child, she said, “I’m here to make you an offer.”

“On offer?”  Well that sounded like crap, but okay.

“A compromise.”  At his scowl, she smiled sweetly.  “What?  You don’t think I’m capable?  Just because I’m not willing to compromise with the brother who _trapped_  me for millenia doesn’t mean I can’t be... amenable, if needed.”

“This should be good,” he grumbled, but shrugged.  “Let’s hear it then.”  Like he had a choice.

“You may have noticed that when I killed Lucifer, I left Castiel alive.”

Dean tried not to react, he really did, but mentioning Cas like that...  It pushed his buttons, alright?  Because after all the shit that’s gone down, _she does not get to say his name._   “What, you want a thank you card or something?”  

She sure as fuck had another thing coming if she wanted him to be _thankful_  for that, for not totally destroying him through Cas.  Because no, you do not get to use the people he ~~loved~~ cared about against him and expect him to be happy that you _didn’t_  kill them.

“I could have killed him, you know.  Easily.  It would have been easier than sparing him.”

“Not fucking helping-”

“But I know what he means to you.”  And fuck, her eyes pierced right through him and he had no doubt that yes, she _did_  know.  “So I’m extending my offer to include Castiel.”

Loathe though he might be to admit it, she definitely had his attention now.  “I’m sorry, but... just what the fuck does that mean?”

“I think you know,” she laughs with a smug little smile.  “That’s what I’m offering, Dean.  Me... and the angel.”

He swallowed heavily.  Oh god, he wasn’t actually _considering_  this, was he?  No, no of course not.  “Cas would never go for-”

“Oh, please.”  He can practically feel the weight of her eye roll.  “I had him for weeks.  Sure, he was buried under Lucifer, but he was definitely in there.  And we _both_  know, he goes where you go.”

Dean opened his mouth to deny it but...  fuck, it was true, wasn’t it?  If he made this choice for the both of them, chose _survival_  in whatever form he could get it...  Oh fuck, Cas totally _would_  follow him.  

“So what’ll it be Dean - me _and_ the angel... or nothing at all?”


End file.
